Like ropes, the fingers on Ky's left hand enveloped the leather sphere. Each stomp toward Tommy shook the Earth, sending a hot, excited jolt through the Englishman's body. With the speed of a boxer's punch, the ball connected with Tommy's chest; still, he was unmoved, smiling as large as ever.

"Look at that fire! Did I strike a nerve," Tommy's sing-songy taunting failed to prompt a reaction from the American.

"Play," Ky mumbled, digging the ball deeper into Tommy's chest.

A chuckle jigged off Tommy's lips as he clasped the ball, leaning closer to Ky, wrapping his slender hands over Ky's wrist unwantedly. He placed Ky's hand over his chest for a moment before Ky yanked it away; despite the contact being for just a second, Ky could feel Tommy's heart banging against the walls of his chest.

"The fuck is wrong with you!" Ky said, wiping his hand on his shirt.

"You feel that? My heart is pounding! I've been itching to find my match! The one who will push me past the ceiling that's been confining me for so long!"

"Play the damn game,"

The Englishman rhythmically expelled air from his nostrils.

"Alright, alright…" said Tommy; just as those words were uttered, his body settled and his jesty demeanor shifted from that of a clown to a murderer. "Let's play, Kaito."

Tommy's sneakers nearly generated flames; kicking off the hardwood as he b-lined for the basket. Still, despite the Englishman's remarkable swiftness, Ky was attached to his hip, staying in front of him with his arms wide like a brick wall. It was no matter for the redhead; again, he turned his back to Ky and the two were chest to back, Tommy using his bony frame to push Ky backward.

The redhead's brows shifted a millimeter; in just this one interaction, he could sense that the boy from early was replaced by something else.

Interesting… he thought; still, he tried to back Ky into the key, but the American wouldn't budge. With each dribble, Tommy bashed his back into Ky's chest, but the American would fight back, nearly knocking the skinny giant off his feet.

Good! Play a physical game! That's fine by me! I'll just shoot it from here!

Tommy's foot pivoted, his sneakers squelching as it slid across the ground. The redhead aimed his left shoulder toward the basket; his body perpendicular to Ky's, and his right hand scooped the ball.

Another sky hook!? But we're twenty feet from the basket! There's no way!? Ky thought; putting a hand in Tommy's face. If he's taking such a stupid shot, he must practice it. I wouldn't put it past him!

Tommy raised a foot off the ground, rotating the ball around the right side of his body. Meanwhile, Ky bent his knees, such that the angle behind his knee was less than ninety degrees.

I don't care how much he's practiced this shot, I will block it! Ky's inner voice roared.

Like springs, Ky's legs propelled him toward the heavens. This time, his head was far higher than Tommy's and his arms blocked the redhead's path toward the basket. Still, Tommy's shoulder contorted, stretching his arm, before the ball was released from his fingertips.

Ky strained himself while suspended in the air, trying to emulate the redhead by stretching his arms, willing to tear his shoulders if he had to. Gritting his teeth, he lengthened his fingertips by a sole millimeter; however, that single, minuscule difference was enough for Ky's fingertip to graze the ball.

The ball flew toward the basket, but Ky's fingertips altered its path and it crashed into the rim. At the same time, Ky could see one of his challenges updating in his field of view.

Talent Goal Pogo Stick Successfully block or shoot over a defender ten times - 1/10

So even if I just graze the ball, it counts?

Before Ky knew it; the ball was pressed up against his chest by Tommy, whose eyes were practically oozing with a mixture of excitement and delirium. Without exchanging words, the two stepped to the top of the three-point line with Ky in possession of the ball.

It never said I have to make the shot over his head to unlock my Talent. Therefore, if I use the same logic, all I have to do is shoot over him and it should progress the challenge.

Instantaneously, Ky drove toward the basket, using his shorter limbs to his advantage. Still, despite the redhead's lanky limbs, he was hot on Ky's trail, his body hunched to Ky's height as he watched the boy's eyes.

I have to shake him; even if it's just for a single second. I'm not going to win unless I can unlock that new Talent, so in the meantime, I'm going to have to just shoot over him; whether I make it or miss it doesn't matter!

Shifting his hips and crossing the ball repeatedly in front of, behind, and between his legs, the American tried shaking off the Englishman. Despite Ky's slight speed advantage, Tommy's incredibly long legs would reach outward, cutting off Ky's path. They were playing a physical game, colliding bodies, but not crossing the line into foul territory. Each collision felt like smashing into a brick wall for both boys, yet neither let up.

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On top of the physical defensive game the redhead played, he was aggressive, using his long reach to wrap around Ky, nearly poking the ball out of his hands, yet still staying in front of him. Ky was starting to panic, making quicker, more precise dribble moves to try and shake the Brit, but to no avail.

I wonder if his legs do the same things as his arms, contorting at the joints to increase their reach, Ky wondered. If that's true, I'll never get around him. This kid's a lockdown defender.

Knowing shaking Tommy was impossible at this rate, Ky took a step backward and fired a quick jump shot, one that successfully flew over Tommy's head, but completely whiffed the basket. Still, once the ball and the hardwood made contact, Ky watched as his progress counter increased yet again.

Talent Goal Pogo Stick Successfully block or shoot over a defender ten times - 2/10

So I was right. I just have to graze the ball or shoot over him eight more times… We're playing to eleven, each basket counts as one, unless it's a three-pointer, then it's two. He hasn't shown much interest in shooting threes, which means I have to block four out of his next thirteen shots and then shoot the ball over him four more times. Still… will this new talent even make that big of a difference? If I'm down zero to ten, could I come back and win?

"Aye!" Tommy growled, interrupting Ky's thoughts. "Check the ball, you numpty."

Numpty?

Ky grabbed the ball and approached the redhead. He slammed the ball onto his chest and bent his knees into his defensive position. The moment the two of them exchanged possession of the ball, Tommy fired a three-pointer, right in the face of the unprepared American. Ky lifted a hand, blocking Tommy's eyes from seeing the rim, still, the redhead sunk the shot with ease, hitting nothing but the bottom of the net.

Tommy scoffed. "Three-zip. Get your head out of your arse,"

Ky, dumbfounded, said nothing in response. He could only stare at the Englishmen, who at the moment felt eight feet tall, looming over Ky like an oblique tower.

"What, you thought I couldn't shoot three-pointers, you muppet." Tommy mocked, grabbing the ball and throwing it at Ky's chest. "Check the ball."

Damn it; I forgot this kid is completely unpredictable. No shit he can shoot threes, even big men shoot threes nowadays cause everyone wants to be like Curry. Damn it! All he does is get on my nerves, I want to knock that smile off his freckled face!

"You talk too much," Ky said, peeling the ball off his chest and pounding it against Tommy's. "I'm not letting you score again. I can promise you that."

"Really? We'll see about that, mate," these words spewed from the Englishman's lips as he faked another three-point attempt. Ky flinched, taking a micro-step forward and being off-balance for just a nano-second. Tommy grinned, kicking off the ground and driving toward the basket. Ky stumbled backward, still off-balance but following Tommy nonetheless. Still, cackling like a hyena, Tommy stopped on a dime, Ky fell on his ass, and Tommy sunk a mid-range jumper; all the American could do was watch.

"Get up," Tommy demanded, walking to the three-point line with the ball in his hand. "What part of giving me a challenge don't you get? I'm starting to lose faith in you again."

He's humiliating me!

Ky's body was trembling; embarrassment, anger, and whatever lay in between was coursing through him like a rapid stream. "I'm not letting you score again, I swear on my life!" he roared so loudly, his voice alone could've tipped skyscrapers.

"You look upset," Tommy teased, smiling ear to ear. "I didn't catch where you were from. My guess is you're a nobody who hasn't faced any competition in your entire life. Busy-tailed and bright-eyed, you came into this competition thinking you'd coast on by like you were when you played against hicks and hillbillies in the middle of nowhere. Now, you're up against top prospects and you have no idea what to do. Isn't that right, mate? Hell, you can't even beat some bloke from the UK."

Tommy chuckled, squeezing the ball against his chest like he would a teddy bear. "I'm right, aren't I? It's written all over your face…" Tommy's voice trailed away and his smile faded. "I guess I shouldn't be laughing. Having you on my team, my odds are in jeopardy… Maybe I shouldn't have eliminated Sir Goggles."

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Ky asked, his body still fuming.

"You'll have to be more specific than that," Tommy said in jest, swaying side to side as he embraced the ball.

"Do you have some sort of personality disorder!? Medically, and mentally, what the HELL is your problem? It's like every sentence that comes out of that mouth of yours is coming from a different person! Just shut the fuck up! Stop yapping and play the goddamn game!"

Tommy's body froze, and his eyelids lowered ever so slightly. As he tilted his head, Tommy tapped a finger on his chin. "Now I'm confused. Did you want an answer or did you want me to shut up?"

"Please… shut the fuck up…" Ky repeated.

"Guess you'll have to make me. Check the ball." Tommy passed the ball back to Ky. The American caught it, tossed it back, and assumed his defensive position.

Tommy drove toward the basket, backing Ky down near the baseline. "I'm going to do a skyhook, right here on the baseline. Make sure to jump as high as your little legs can, okay?" Tommy mocked before doing exactly what he'd claimed he would, performing a skyhook, contorting his arms as he did before. Ky leaped with both arms high barely tapping the ball with a single finger; however, the ball rattled around the rim and fell through the hoop.

Even though Ky disrupted the shot, the counter on his challenge didn't move.

So it only counts if he misses, he thought.

"The score is now five to zero. I am going to shoot another three, are you ready?" Tommy explained.

He faked a jumper, knowing for certain that Ky wouldn't react, and he was right. Ky didn't move an inch. Within that same second, Tommy pivoted his foot as if he were about to take off from the three-point line, compelling the American to take a step backward, leaving Tommy open for a split second.

Ky tried stepping forward, jumping to block the shot, but Tommy sunk the three before cupping his hands together and taunting him. "Seven to… zerooooooooo," Tommy mocked. "Next I'll try… a mid-range jumper. Are you ready?"

Tommy stood at the three-point line, waiting for Ky to check the ball. Once he did, the redhead instantly attacked the basket, only to step back as if he were about to shoot a jump shot, just as he claimed he would.

Not this time! Ky proclaimed internally as he bounced to block the shot. Almost immediately, Tommy dribbled around Ky as he soared through the air and drove toward the basket. Without even sweating, Tommy slammed the ball through the hoop, hanging off of it like a monkey as he looked back, taunting Ky.

"And now, it's eight to zero. You really are rubbish."